Not soon after leaving the restaurant we were in an area that only had one lane going in each direction and I was wondering what I had done. But I bought gas and trudged along.
(This photo is not of the forest, even though the forest did have some desert-like areas to it, I am just not sure which photo is from where lol)
So, my father had to play cameraman for the day, and he definitely did a bang-up job. I'm an extreme amateur too so there is not anything I can really say about his skills anyways.
Sidebar: When I initially planned this trip out, it was supposed to be just me, but now I realize how I would not have been able to do this alone, and how great it is to have a loved one with me.
I'm not going to bore you with the details of this day of driving, but this is the kicker. Three miles into the drive and nearing the 230 mile mark where my father and I would have switched driving duty, I got onto the Interstate 40 FWY in Arizona. The GPS told me to take it straight to Albuquerque, NM.
It was 233 miles by itself.
That's when I figured, "Alright, father has been doing all the driving thus far, this will be his day off." And I trudged along some more. I stopped in Grants, NM to buy gas, since I only had a quarter of a tank left and was not trying to run out of gas in the middle of the interstate. I had not realized how tired my legs were from the then-four hours of nonstop driving and how badly they needed the stretch. There, I saw one of the CLEANEST GAS STATION RESTROOMS that I had encountered in my entire life. (I took a photo but fear that it is gone now, on that I will explain later). I was shaken to my very core, and thoroughly impressed. And, more importantly, I met Martin, the gas station attendant.
At first he seemed to be a bit wary of me, as though I might steal something, but I quickly disarmed his suspicions with my charming smile and charisma (ay, let me hype myself up, don't laugh). Who knows what he was thinking, but admittedly I have become hypersensitive to how people look at me at first meeting. It is in those first few seconds when you figure out if someone is going to be cool with you and just treat you like a fellow human being, or immediately judge you based on your skin color and treat you like a criminal. Maybe I feel like I detect things that simply aren't there, maybe I pick up on people's implicit biases that they don't even realize. It does not matter, I am not here to demonize Martin for a quick look that I've suspected from hundreds of others. Also, New Mexico is about 2% Black/African American, according to suburbanstats.org, so even though that isn't an excuse, his limited experience with Black people might have influenced how he saw me initially.
I really enjoyed talking with Martin. He has lived in Grants all of his life and could give me so much helpful information about the people and government there. He spoke about how he grew up, the wealth gap, the opioid epidemic, coming of age, and the economy. It was during his interview where I started to realize a number of things:
-I had interviewed only White/mixed White/White passing people thus far. It makes sense because America has a majority White population and other races tend to cluster in larger cities, but I am lacking in the crucial discussion of race in America that affects so many.
-People admire hard work. It inspires them. We like to look up to people that are self-made, it gives us hope that we can do the same if we just work hard too. And it makes sense, it appeals to the American ideals of individualism and earning what you deserve, based on how hard you've worked.
That was not all that came up in my interview with Martin, but he made me realize how much of a reality some issues that I hear about on television but never really pay much mind to are to people. I am just so detached from them. I thanked Martin for the interview, bought gas, and headed back on the road.
We got into Albuquerque around 8:12pm, and it was another 50 miles to get to Santa Fe. We arrived at about 9pm. It was tedious but I learned why New Mexico is called "The Land of Enchantment". Just look!
Nothing beats a New Mexico sunset.
(Ignore all the stains on the windshield, nobody ever told me that bugs would fly into it. I was caught off guard. Cars 1 Bugs 0)
Tired, I pulled up to our hotel and just wanted to check in and sleep.
Lo and behold, they had no record of my reservation. There was an issue with how I booked it via a 3rd party hotel booking site. After 30 mins of talking to the manager, calling the hotel booking site, having the manager call the hotel booking site and giving the phone to me, me giving the phone back to the manager, and the hotel booking site having to fax and call the hotel manager (even though they were just talking on the phone???), I got into my room.
But I was hungry. And so was father.
Off of a recommendation from a recent CMC alum and Santa Fe local, Alejandra, we went to Cowgirl in downtown Santa Fe. What immediately stood out to was some writing that was on the sidewalk. I am not used to "graffiti" (if it is even considered that, I don't know what was the allowance for the person to produce this work) like this.
Also, as soon as we walked in, an older White woman said to me and my father that it was nice to see us. At first I was curious as to why my father knew this random White lady in New Mexico, then I figured that it is just a friendly place. Having now spent a day here, though, I think she might have just confused us for other Black people (you'll see why later). Santa Fe's percentage of Black people is half that of New Mexico as a whole. Refer to the earlier statistic.
We ordered to go so that we could eat in the hotel room, and I soon realized that I had time to conduct another interview. At first I was planning on interviewing the young woman that had taken our orders. Speaking candidly, I judged her before we even began as being oblivious and not really aware of much that does not concern her. When we went into a quieter area to conduct the interview and I explained to her what my project was about, though, she said that she would not be a good fit. Why?
She was from The Kingdom of Tonga.
Yet another example of why we should not judge a book by its cover. She was honestly really sweet and great in helping me find a coworker. I am ashamed for not giving her the benefit of the doubt, and know better for next time.
Her coworker, Mary Anne, was an amazing person to interview. She really opened up to me and I got a feeling that Santa Fe was just the type of person where this type of sharing is encouraged. People are proud of their backgrounds here, generally speaking. I could dedicate a whole post to just her, which I might do, later, but here comes the part of the night that really hurt.
After going to the hotel and eating, I wanted to transfer the files from my phone (which had been used to record the travels and interviews of the day. Long story short the files that ended up on my laptop were corrupted and I had already deleted them from my phone.
I'd lost Mary Anne's interview.
I was distraught.
I decided to work on something else, a video I had been working for the Youtube page.
It was somehow corrupted as well.
I went to bed.
I woke up to my father earnestly working to try to retrieve the files, searching all over the internet for some way to fix this issue. I appreciate this more than he could ever know, even if it is/was fruitless.
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